


Something Quite Atrocious

by LateStarter58



Series: The Loki and Theresa Stories [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Despite having declared his love for her, Loki has not returned to Theresa for some time. And she has been feeling rather strange...





	Something Quite Atrocious

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of their story.

‘Are you feeling cold, Theresa?’

My boss is looking at me, one eyebrow raised, as I practically sit on the top of the bottle-gas heater in the corner of the shop. I smile awkwardly and straighten up.

‘Sorry, er, yes, Art. For some reason I just can’t seem to get warm today.’

That’s a half-truth: I’ve been feeling cold for a couple of weeks, and the ambient temperature seems to be immaterial. I sleep in sweats and socks, even a hat last night. Nothing helps, except for lying in a scalding-hot bath, and even that wears off really fast. It must be a bug, or hormonal or something. I hope it goes soon; I’m sick of shivering on the sofa and hugging hot water bottles. The ground floor of the bookshop is a little below street-level, so it feels colder anyway.

At least Lily doesn’t seem to have it, whatever it is. She’s her usual, happy, shiny little self. I arrive home from work every evening to a smiling, clean, well-fed child. It’s almost three months since I last saw Loki himself, but ‘Mary Poppins’ still comes every day I need her to, minds my daughter for me, cleans the flat, does the washing and generally makes my life infinitely better than it was a year ago. His gift of her to me is the reason I have this good life: I can do a job I adore and my child is well cared for, safe and thriving. I don’t dwell too much on my doubts about how long this will continue.

And I miss him.

I think about him all the time, of course, and watch Mary obsessively when we are together for the moments - often fleeting - when she resembles Loki so much my breath catches. She _isn’t_ him, but she is part of him: a projection; a projection of an _aspect,_ she calls it. She is beautiful, kind, gentle; therefore, it follows, so must he be, if only in part. And as she is the only piece of him that I have, I cling to her, at least with my eyes. She arrives in the mornings about half-an-hour before I leave for the shop; she allows me time to shower and change before she departs in the evening. I don’t need her help overnight, because thanks to whatever ‘magic’ (I remain a sceptic on that subject) Loki did to her on his first visit, Lily still sleeps through. And we do get my half-days, when we go out as a family (because that’s what we have become); for walks, to the zoo or the play centre, or shopping for clothes for Lil. I make the most of the time I have with what little of Loki I have.

I miss him. So much.

The last time he was here we confessed our love for each other. _So where is he?_

If I ask ‘Mary’ - which I know isn’t fair - she looks troubled and shakes her head. I am afraid that something bad has happened, and this strange cold feeling is not helping. It’s as if an entire _corps de ballet_ is pirouetting on my grave, 24/7. Then, one Wednesday morning I wake up and the chills have gone, as suddenly as they arrived. A month of this apparent illness and it has evaporated overnight. I feel energised, ready for anything, better than I did before. I am still sad, though.

I still miss Loki so much. Never mind, life must go on.

The shop is really busy for a weekday, and I don’t notice him at first, lurking in the _Mythology_ section. Then as a customer leaves and the air is wooshed around the ground floor by the door closing behind her, I catch a whiff of his distinctive fragrance: herbs and pine sap and a northern forest. My head snaps up and my gaze meets his. I forget what I am doing (nothing important, happily) and run to him. I hear a gasp of pain as I embrace him and look up. I can see his face more clearly now; it is peppered with tiny cuts and there are several fading bruises.

‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’

‘ _Shhhh…_ ’ A long cool finger presses to my lips.

‘You’re battered, Loki. _What’s happened?_ ’ My whisper is almost as loud.

He looks meaningfully in Arthur’s direction. I understand, peck his cheek quickly and turn to my employer.

‘Excuse me, Arthur.’

He looks over, glancing at Loki over my shoulder. ‘Do you need to take a break, Theresa?’

He’s a good man.

My flat is only ten minutes’ walk away, but Loki takes us in the opposite direction, down into the town’s park, through the happy crowds gathering there. He doesn’t stand out too much in his smart, designer business suit: the place is full of lunching office workers enjoying the welcome spring sunshine. He does not speak at all until he has found us a secluded bench amongst the rhododendrons and we sit turned towards each other, hands entwined. He looks tired, stressed out. I don’t say anything either, just watch as his eyes run over my face. He seems to be struggling with what to say. Finally he speaks his first words since he appeared at the shop.

‘ _Theresa, I am sorry that I have neglected you these past months. Things have been…_ ’ he looks away, clearly searching for the right word, _‘… difficult for me. There has been unrest in some of the Realms. Rebellion.’_

I am horrified the thought of it. ‘Don’t you have soldiers to take care of that sort of thing? Why do _you_ have to get hurt?’ I am embarrassed to discover that I am crying. Loki smiles sadly at me and wipes the tears away from my cheeks.

_‘Some things a king must do himself. And it is done now. All is well.’_

‘But you aren’t.’ I run my fingertips over his cheeks, skirting the bruises, some yellowed and fading, some clearly fresh and tracing the smattering of new cuts and old scabs which decorate his cool pale skin.

‘ _I am healing._ ’ He takes hold of my hand and kisses the palm. Shivers run up my spine. ‘ _But what of you; you have been unwell. Are you better?_ ’

‘Oh that? Yes, it seems to have gone. No idea what it was, mind. Just felt freezing all the time.’

‘ _And now you do not?_ ’ I notice he seems anxious.

‘No, now I feel great, actually. Much better for seeing you, even in this state.’ I stroke his hair and his eyes flutter closed at my touch. ‘Can you stay with me tonight?’ My heart is beating very fast: I am begging him to say yes. He nods and I let out the breath I didn’t even notice I was holding. A smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and I wonder idly if he knows how beautiful he is. The smile gets broader: I had forgotten momentarily that he can read my thoughts.

We part and I head back to work. Arthur asks no questions, but I see him smiling to himself. He is a kind employer and I give thanks daily that I found him. Was that Loki’s doing as well, I wonder? Maybe not; but in all honesty, I have no real understanding of what is or is not within his powers. In the nine months since I started at Castle Books I have discovered that Art was a very popular teacher before his retirement, as well as a published poet. In other words, he is exactly the kind of person I would want to know anyway, never mind work for. We have become friends, and Lil and I have been invited to Sunday lunch with him and his wife many times. But nevertheless I can’t tell him about Loki, not everything anyway. So I say nothing.

The afternoon is the longest in history, but finally the clock ticks around to five-thirty and I can leave for home. When I arrive at the flat there is a delicious smell filling the hall: Mary Poppins has been cooking. I can see her in the kitchen, stirring a pot and checking under the lid of another, looking for all the world like a housewife in a fifties TV show – apart from her striking green and gold tunic and trousers. She smiles when she sees me and points towards the living room.

I can hear the sound of toddler’s laughter: Loki is with Lily. The sound of clattering wood tells me they are playing her favourite game of the moment: knocking stuff over. I stand in the doorway and watch them. Loki patiently assembles a complex structure from the classic (ancient, used) wooden blocks I bought for 10p at a jumble sale, then smiles benevolently as my daughter swipes at them, causing a catastrophic collapse. He is using none of his ‘magic’, as far as I can tell, which pleases me.

‘Mumma!’ Lily has noticed me and runs unsteadily over. She has been walking for seven months, now.I pick her up and I am smothered in sticky kisses. Shifting her onto my hip I look at Loki.

‘Oki!’ Lily shouts, pointing at him. His face is a picture of delight, and I swear there are tears in his eyes.

‘Yes,’ I tell her, ‘that’s Loki.’

She reaches out for him, and he stands and takes her from me. She wraps her stubby hands into his long hair and kisses him as passionately as she did me.

‘Yove Oki,’ she states, grinning.

I didn’t know alien ‘gods’ could blush.

A couple of hours later we have all been fed with a delicious stew, Lily has been bathed and put to bed and I am alone with Loki at last. I have been watching him closely: he is in pain and trying to hide it. While he was drying her on the bathroom floor, Lily kicked his chest and he groaned. I need to see what is under his crisp, white designer shirt.

Actually, I would need to see that anyway; this just makes it more urgent. _Even more_ urgent _._

Ahem.

_‘Lily seems very content.’_

‘Thanks to you, yes. She sleeps, which makes all the difference.’ He cocks his head, waiting for me to continue, ‘And she has a much happier mother than she did when you first came here.’

He smiles, and it’s the sweet smile that I love, rather than the scary-sexy one I got at first. We are next to each other on the sofa, and he reaches for me. ‘ _I am so glad that I could help you, Theresa_.’

I slide onto his lap and again I see him wince. I bring my face to his, looking into his green and gold eyes. They are dark, the lids heavy.

‘Loki…’ I breathe against his lips, then brush mine against them so lightly it’s barely a contact. He gasps, and I know that he wants this as much as I do. But I need to see how badly he is hurt; I need to know what has happened to him. I gently ease the buttons of his shirt open. His jaw tightens but he allows it, and gradually I uncover his chest.

I cannot believe he is able to move.

There is a massive contusion which starts at the top of his sternum, stretches in both directions across his ribs and ends just above his navel. It resembles a bulls-eye in shades of red, purple and blue, like some hideous, macabre tie-dyed t-shirt. The centre is further decorated with grazes. I cannot imagine what did this to him, but I suspect it would have killed any human male.

‘Loki. Oh, Loki…’

I kiss the bruise as softly as I did his lips. His hands are on my waist and they tighten almost imperceptibly, making me stop. He seems unwilling to show his pain to me, so I decide to drop the matter. I can feel that he is not impaired in other ways, but I am worried I will hurt him.

_‘Do not concern yourself, Theresa. I am healing fast and the pain is not so bad.’_

I am unconvinced about that but so desperate for his touch that I take his word for it. It soon becomes apparent that either he is unable or has chosen not to use his abilities. His strength is not lessened, however. He removes my shirt and jeans in a conventional manner, then stands and scoops me into his arms to carry me into the bedroom. It is delicious and romantic, like _An Officer and a Gentleman_ ; I much prefer it to the instant nakedness and teleporting of previous occasions. He is gentle, fingers dancing over my skin, lips feather-light on my face and neck. It is all so sexy and intimate that I am melting with desire when he finally lies me down on the bed. The first touch of his mouth to my sex is like an electric shock; it seems to affect him in the same way, because he stops and looks at me with more intensity than ever. Then he falls on me again and soon I am writhing and screaming his name.

I can only guess what the neighbours think. Mrs Williams gave me some very old-fashioned looks after his last night here.

When Loki glides up the bed to press his lips to mine once more I see that it causes him more than a little discomfort. I start to say so but he stops me speaking by the simple expedient of a passionate kiss to the mouth and the sliding of his magnificent cock inside me. I am afraid that this will hurt him, and I am sure it does when he stops his progress suddenly, only finishing his filling of me very slowly and gradually. He has a thoughtful look, as if he is trying to figure something out.

The moment passes, and soon he is driving me to the edge of madness again, but his eyes stay on me, so bright and watchful that I feel under his scrutiny as never before. I tell him I love him, I touch my fingertips to that mass of broken and battered tissue and his gaze tells me that he loves me back. The muscles of his back and legs seem as strong as ever and I am transported. No woman ever had a better lover.

I take a moment to reflect. How has this happened? To me? A boring nobody single mum? Me, in love with an alien? A god from Norse myth? The villain of New York? How can I be part of his life, really? The state he is in today just proves to me that I know nothing of his wider existence; I have no concept what he does when he is not with me. I try not to allow feelings of jealousy to taint my thoughts, but my worries over his safety are irrepressible.

Loki’s thrusting soon drives all thought out of my head and I come apart around him, clutching at his pale shoulders as I mutter my love into the soft fragrant skin of his neck. His lips press to my forehead as I lie back on the pillow and he murmurs my name. My doubts are pushed aside: I love him, he loves me and Lily. Nothing else matters tonight.

Or so I think.

We lie in each other’s arms, me doing my best not to press on any part of that enormous contusion. It isn’t easy: it covers the whole of the front of his chest. I am happy, relaxed; I feel safe. But I can tell that something is not right with Loki.

_‘Theresa, I need to ask you some questions.’_

‘OK.’ I turn and look into his face. It is troubled.

_‘Your monthly cycle, is it normal?’_

I try to think what he is getting at. ‘No, but it never has been. I don’t have normal periods.’ I lift myself up onto one elbow. ‘Why do you ask?’

I feel his hand glide up my arm, over my shoulder and cup my left cheek. _‘Because I believe you may be carrying my child.’_

‘What?!’

‘ _The feeling of cold you had; that was one sign. When I tasted you tonight there was a change from before, and when I entered you, as I neared your womb it felt…cold. You see, Theresa, there is something you don’t know about me. Very few know this.’_

I am in shock, trying to process what he is saying, so this last detail seems unimportant. I answer mechanically.

‘Oh yes, what’s that?’

_‘I am not Asgardian. I am Jotun. We are sometimes called ‘Frost Giants’.’_

I gape at him as slowly, like the shadow of a summer cloud on a meadow, a wave of blue ripples across his skin. Odd raised markings appear in its wake, and as the colour change reaches his eyes they turn blood-red. He is still my Loki, I can see that, but so much more alien than I could ever imagine. Then, faster than it came, it goes and my familiar pale lover is back. Well, that explains why he is so cold to the touch, I suppose. I feel a sob rising in my throat. I am not afraid of him: I am afraid for my unborn child.

Our child.

Loki nods, and I know he agrees. _‘I cannot leave you here to bear the child, Theresa. Midgardian healers can have no idea how to help you, and in any case the Avengers or others would hear of it.’_

I am trying to tease out his meaning. My head is still spinning. In the last few minutes I have discovered that I am pregnant, and that my – comparatively normal – alien boyfriend is even stranger than I knew. And now he is talking about taking me away.

‘But Lily...’

_‘She will come too, of course.’_ He smiles. He loves her, I know. We have become a family overnight, it seems.

‘When you say ‘come’…to _where_ , exactly?’

_‘To Asgard. You must both come back with me to Asgard.’_


End file.
